


In Spite of it All

by Robyn2607



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6947986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robyn2607/pseuds/Robyn2607
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven has a crush on her co-worker Octavia. Octavia has a boyfriend and is straight. They have a strong friendship that Raven has never let her feelings interfere with. And then alcohol becomes a factor.</p><p>Work party night out, what could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Spite of it All

**Author's Note:**

> Just FYI :)  
> I = Raven  
> You= Octavia  
> Also alcohol/drinking involve and minor drink driving mentioned in passing

The taste of sambuca still lingers on my tongue. Someone had convinced me to do another shot, and I had. After all they were free.

Your brother’s word still run through my head. He had asked me to keep an eye on you. One of the boys, our co-worker, was constantly prowling, waiting for his chance with you. And you were drunk, and already had a boyfriend. You occasionally make bad decisions when liquor is involved so your brother’s concern was not unfounded. I decided to be a good friend, a good co-worker, and check on you.

When I found you in the smoking area your eyes were glazed and heavy like my own. The alcohol we had consumed over the last two hours had had its effects. You finish your conversation and turn to me. One gesture and we’re making our way back inside. You’re cold. Although you are wearing a bralette and thin material pants in January, it doesn’t come as a surprise.

You grab my hand and pull me upstairs. We’re now sitting in the empty mezzanine where this night had started. I don’t know what we talk about, I just know when I make you laugh my heart flutters. That’s okay though because you have a boyfriend and I have an insignificant crush. But then somehow we hug and I plant a kiss on your cheek. We were being stereotypical drunk girls.

Then you ask me to give you a kiss. Without thinking or hesitating I do. I leaned in and briefly place my lips upon yours. And when I draw back nothing has changed, because we are both drunk and we are still just good friends.

This is where you mess it up though.

You sabotage any blissful ignorance we both had by shaking your head, as though I am foolish, and you clarify you wanted a _proper kiss_. Now I hesitate because I may be drunk but I don’t consider myself naïve. But the hesitation washes away once you begin to lean in. And we share a proper kiss. A kiss that tastes of cigarettes, vodka and sweetness. A kiss that is so surreal that I _still_ question whether I dreamt it.

We go back out to the smoking area because we decide to talk. And what better place to talk than an area where all our friends and colleagues have ventured to. But you’re wearing my jacket and when the aforementioned boy talks to you, you reach for my hand. I take it in my own and run my thumb along the back reassuring you that I’m here, that I won’t let him corner you.

So we sit inside the doorway. We break the no smoking indoors rule but that is hardly our biggest concern. You look so confused and I don’t understand why. It was just a kiss. You are a straight girl who probably kisses all her friends while drunk yet now you appeared conflicted.  
You start talking however, and it is as though the gates have now opened. You admit you’re crushing on me and I am blindsided. You continue on to say how you’ve been questioning yourself, your sexuality and I am taken aback. I try to assure you that while questioning is okay, I’m not that special to question your sexuality over. But then you reply and I can’t forget what you said as much as I try. _You are that special to me though_. And still now, my heart clenches. I have never felt that special to someone before nor have I since. I asked do you love your boyfriend and you say yes. So I try dismiss the situation but you look so questioning I can’t. You need someone. You also insist that you should not have said anything. That you don’t want to _fuck me up_. But what you don’t realize darling is you always have fucked me up. Your eyes, your smile, your passion and drive, they constantly kill me.

We agree to move to your car to talk. I assure your brother I’ll take care of you and we leave. You’re still wearing my jacket but I don’t care. I may by cold but I’d rather you be warm.

We’re seated in your car, that always has a lasting smell of weed. And we talk for a while. You stop conversation at one point and ask can we kiss again. The fact you have a boyfriend does cross my mind but I lean in regardless. The details are fuzzy due to the spirits that were now in full effect. We stop and talk some more. At one point you get sick and I hold your hair back. I have to reach across the seat to rub you back but I don’t mind the cold breeze that is once again biting.  
You agree to stay at my house. You’re too fucked to be driving at all, never mind the intricate dirt roads that take over twenty minutes to get to your home. I agree to let you drive to my house however because it is 2 minutes away. It is that or you drive home.

So we make it back after a wrong turn and you’re worried about my parents. _What are they going to think of me? I’m so wasted_. I’ve been emancipated since I was fifteen however so the only one inside the studio apartment is the goldfish. And he doesn’t give a shit.

So you ring your boyfriend and inform him that you won’t be going home. You ask him to let your mother know because your phone is broken and you don’t wish to worry her. At one point I speak to him as your body once again rejects the previously consumed alcohol.

We go inside. I offer multiple times to take the couch or sleep on ground but you refuse. I warn that it’s my time of the month and you mumble _same_. You just don’t want to be alone; you want me near. So I grab you a pair of my pajamas, ones that look too big on you because you are so very small. You slide into my bed and I hurriedly follow. Straight away you cuddle into my side and wrap yourself around my body. You note how cold I am. I attempt to shrug it off but you wrap the blanket tightly around us, muttering sorry for stealing my jacket earlier. I dismiss you because I would gladly do it again.

And we talk. For even longer.

We talk about ourselves and our families. We talk about our hopes and aspirations. Some topics are hazy and mere drunken flashbacks; others are vividly clear. I recall you admitting you once deliberately hurt yourself. My heart sank and I maintained I was there if you ever felt like that again, I still do maintain that.

Eventually sleep comes. The morning brings slight awkwardness but I am more worried about you. You are still slightly distressed and again you apologize for _fucking things up_. I have an exam soon so after lying in bed for a while you leave. I grab you a sweater and it ends up being one of my favorites. It’s my Hogwarts one. It’s incredibly baggy on you but you look cute nevertheless.

I walk you out after providing you with water and Advil. At the car we hug and then you leave. I don’t hear from you again for three days. You express regret again and apologize. I’m once again nonchalant and just worried about you. We continue our work lives in forced friendliness and unsaid awkwardness.

I don’t regret it though. Despite never getting my sweater back or having multiple panic attacks, despite over-thinking and watching you have a happy life with your boyfriend.

In spite of everything, the only thing I regret is not kissing you longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey this is my first time posting here so let me know what you think.  
> This is not my usual style but it felt right for this piece. Sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes.  
> Laters x
> 
> P.S. I'm normally not this depressing but lets just say this one isn't pure fiction.


End file.
